rm w a ghst
by panthea
Summary: A young girl with a past takes over Cordy's old apartment and learns the rent is cheap for a reason. How does she react? How does Dennis react? And can he and Angel Investigations help her come to terms with her *own* demons?
1. Disclaimer

Title: rm w/ a ghst  
Author: panthea  
Fandom: Angel  
Rating: G, absolutely G…  
  
Parts: 1 part!  
  
Pairings: none, really, just mentions of some here and there…  
  
Distribution:   
Fanfiction.net at:   
My own website at www.in-the-palm-of-your-hand.com/fanfic  
  
Disclaimer: Louisa may think she owns Dennis, but I know I don't. I created Louisa so I guess she and Marsha and Teddy are mine, but the rest are obviously Joss' and the WB's.  
  
Spoilers: Takes place between Ground State and Spin the Bottle so, spoilers for season 4. And major spoliers for Rm w/ a Vu, so even thougth season 1, be warned. ;-)  
  
Summary: A young girl with a past takes over Cordy's old apartment and learns the rent is cheap for a reason. How does she react? How does Dennis react? And can he and Angel Investigations help her come to terms with her *own* demons?  
  
Feedback: Really? I'd love some, thanks. Lots of sugar, please and no cream... ;-) 


	2. rm w a ghst

rm w/ a ghst 

**rm w/ a ghst**

* * *

         It was perfect. The rooms were large, the ceilings high and best of all, it was _clean_. Unlike the five other apartments she had seen that day or the twenty she had seen that week. 

         Louisa knew she should take it. It was a great apartment and the rent was surprisingly low. She turned about the living room. Was there a catch? There had to be one. It was… too perfect. 

         She trailed her finger along the mantle. "So, what happened to the previous tenant?" she asked the landlady. 

         "Who? Ms. Chase?" the lady asked. "Why, she just up and left in the middle of the night. Her friends held on to the place for awhile, paying the rent and such, but they finally decided to let the place go." 

         "What happened…?" 

         "No one knows," the lady said, then quickly defended her. "It wasn't like she was any trouble or anything. She was a lovely girl, actually. Happy and kind, never a bad word to say about anyone… at least nothing she _meant_," the lady added, with a smile. "She was very quiet, worked some rather difficult hours, I would say, but on the whole, she was a great tenant." 

         "Ah," Louisa said, noting how that last part was stressed as a warning. 

         "As you can see, she kept the place clean, she always chose to fix anything here herself, she was rather peculiar that way. Furniture comes with the place, but if you don't like Ms. Chase's choices…" 

         "Oh, no, no… actually, her taste is similar to mine. Simple, yet tasteful. No, I don't think I'll change a thing," Louisa said. 

         "So, you'll take it?" the lady asked. 

         Louisa took a final look around. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she felt somehow uneasy about the place. There was a catch… there had to be. On the other hand, she couldn't afford to be picky. She needed a place and this was the best she could get for her money. It was either this or the one with the creepy landlord who had the only other key to her door. Yeach. 

         That decided it for her. 

         "Yes. Yes, I think I will." 

         As she and the landlady left to sign the forms, neither noticed the imprint of a face that protruded from the wall, frowning as if in sadness. 

* * *

         Louisa moved in the next day. It wasn't hard work, since she neither painted nor rearranged anything. She hadn't lied to the landlady, she _did_ have the same tastes as the elusive Ms. Chase. She just arranged her stuff around the place, finding that most of it complemented the existing décor. 

         She was just unpacking the last box in the bedroom when she heard a sound from the living room. Thinking it might be the landlady, she called, "Hello?" as she walked in the room. 

         No one was there. 

         Hmm, maybe it was the wind outside. She snapped on the light and then walked into the kitchen. As she set about to make a cup of tea, she remembered that it was relatively mild outside and there really was no _wind_. Maybe… 

         No, she was being paranoid. 

         Louisa frowned as she cupped her hands around the warm mug. She just had to relax. She just had to. True, her life hadn't been exactly serene the last few weeks. Teddy had… and she… If only she had paid more attention, if only she had gotten home sooner, if only… 

         Tears pricked her eyes and she took a deep breath. Stop this, Lou. Get a hold of yourself. It's done, the past… She grabbed her mug and marched out into the dark living room. She leaned over to switch on the light when… 

         Wait, hadn't she turned on the light _before_ she went into the kitchen? Louisa shook her head. No, it can't be. No one else was here. If it was off, she must not have. But… she remembered leaning over… 

         Stop it! You're imagining things now! You didn't turn the light on. Now, don't you have some unpacking to do? the little voice in her head argued. 

         Yes, she did. Louisa left the light on for good measure and walked into the bedroom, determined not to let little things like forgetting if the lights were on or off affect her. 

         When she reached the bedroom doorway, she forgot about that internal promise and almost dropped her tea. She stood there, mouth open in shock. 

         All of her stuff was back in the packing boxes they came in. She carefully set her tea with shaking hands on the night table and examined the box on her bed. It was sealed. 

         Maybe… maybe she hadn't unpacked it… the voice argued valiantly. 

         Yes… yes, maybe that was it, she tried to believe. She hadn't started unpacking, she hadn't been almost finished, she tried to convince herself. She turned to the garbage container beside her. She hadn't thrown away _any_ tape from the sealed boxes, indicating that she _hadn't_ started unpacking… right? 

         But the evidence chose not to agree. In the pail were mounds of used, torn packing tape strips from the boxes. She _had_ unpacked. 

         And somehow, in the time she went and made her tea, someone… no, _something_… had come and repacked everything for her. 

         She fingered the used roll of tape that was lying on the top of the dresser. The message was clear. Go away. Don't come back. 

         Louisa blinked, once, than again, hoping it was a dream. Then, realizing she must be quite _out_-of-her-mind, she went to the living room, to call… who, the cops? The landlady? 

         That's when Louisa first noticed the light was off. Again. She _had_ kept it on, she _had_… 

         Unable to stand there a moment longer and willing herself not to scream, she grabbed her coat and left. 

         As the door shut behind her, the light came back on and the TV flicked on, the channel changing, just in time for the show that was starting. 

* * *

         Louisa was not the kind of person that scared easily. In fact, she was what others described as "the most level-headed, logical person you could meet". Which is why last night made no sense to her. 

         Her place was _not_ haunted. There was _no such thing_. 

         It was obvious. Someone was playing a trick on her, someone with a _bad_ sense of humor. Someone smart, someone fast, someone… who would _not_ get the last laugh. She was determined. 

         As she approached her apartment, she spotted the landlady. 

         "So, how is the place?" she asked. 

         "Oh, fine," Louisa lied, nodding, hoping the panic in her voice didn't show. "It's… fine." 

         The lady was surprised, then relieved. "Good… good." She was about to leave when Louisa stopped her. 

         "Uh… Did… no, never mind." 

         "What, dear? Is something wrong?" the lady asked. 

         "No, no," Louisa quickly said. "I was… I was just wondering… um, did… did Ms. Chase, the lady who had the place before me… did… did she ever… _complain_ about anything?" 

         "Complain?" the lady laughed. "You never knew Ms. Chase! She complained about _everything_! Why wasn't the hall painted white, what was I thinking, planting these roses here, why wasn't cable included with the apartment… on and on and on!" 

         Louisa almost smiled as the lady did a good impersonation of a cranky tenant. "Yes, but I think I meant… complain about…" Louisa tried to find someway of explaining it, without coming across as an insane lunatic. Then she found there were no words and decided not to let her paranoia get the best of her. It was an _apartment_, for crying out loud, not some old Scottish manor. "You know what? It's stupid." 

         Louisa pulled out her keys from her purse and started for her place when the lady smiled knowingly and stopped her. "You mean, complain about the weird things that happen?" she whispered. 

         Louisa froze. "Y-y-yes… H-how did…?" 

         "Oh, honey," said the landlady. "I own this place, you think I'm unaware? I can't _begin_ to tell you how many people have rented that place out and gave it back within the week. Why did you think the rent was so low? It's a beautiful place!" 

         "Yes, but…" 

         "Granted Ms. Chase was different, she stayed on quite a bit longer…" 

         "How long?" 

         "Three years." The landlady saw Louisa's confusion and smiled. "Hon, you look like a level-headed girl. Maybe… maybe you'd like to join me for some lunch? I'll try to tell you what I know." 

         Louisa nodded. She didn't spare her place a glance as she dumped the keys back in and followed the lady out. 

* * *

         "It's funny. Every house, every piece of land. We've been on this earth for so long and yet we forget about what's happened before. Take this restaurant," the lady said, gesturing around. Louisa looked around quickly and turned back attentively to the landlady. 

         "This land, explorers came here and roamed this land. It may have been a trading post, a saloon, a home to a family of five, who knows? Someone may have proposed to someone at this very table, someone may have told another it was over. Someone may have bumped his knee here and someone may have had a heart attack. Someone may have been told he was having a child and someone may have been told a loved one died." 

         Noting Louisa's paleness at that last, she switched gears. "My point is, every place, every house, every _building_ has a history. And when I bought mine, I learned about it. It's a old building, my dear and thus the history is long… and interesting." 

         Louisa stared at the woman. "What are you saying, Ms…?" 

         "Marsha," the lady interrupted. "If we're going to share this, you should call me Marsha." 

         "Marsha," agreed Louisa. "What are you saying exactly? The place is haunted?" she scoffed. 

         Marsha lifted her hands in quick surrender. "I never said that!" 

         Louisa was about to protest as their food came. She waited until the waiter left and leaned over. "So, exactly what _are_ you saying?" 

         Marsha picked up her fork and grinned. "Patience, my dear. You see, I bought the place cheap. The last guy was at his wits' end. Strange things were happening and he wanted no part. But before he left, he told me what started it all. Old Mrs. Pearson." 

         "Huh?" 

         "Mrs. Pearson. As in Pearson Arms, the name of the complex? Old lady, built the place and lived in your apartment in the forties. Died in your living room of a heart attack." 

         "So, she's haunting my place?" asked Louisa. 

         Marsha raised her hand and continued, "Now, I'm just stating the facts. What you decide… Mrs. Pearson died and her son, who was living with her, disappeared. Since then, Johnson, the guy who got the place had his hands full of floating furniture, wacky lights and busting pipes. So, he says." 

         "You don't believe him?" 

         "I never saw it," Marsha admitted. "Yes, people complained, but I never once saw anything to make me believe the place was anything but ordinary. Except the fact that _everyone_ who went in there complained. That is, until Ms. Chase moved in." 

         Louisa played with her salad. "She _never_ complained?" 

         "No, she _complained_… but never about anything… spooky-like. She stayed there for three years, not a peep. Anyways, Johnson held on to the place well into the nineties. It was the last one that did it for him. He said he was much too old for that stuff. Of course he told me that _after_ I bought the place…" she grumbled, taking a vicious bite of steak. 

         "Last one?" 

         Marsha looked up at Louisa. "Yeah. The suicides." 

         "What?" she whispered dully, feeling the color leave her face. Suicide. Oh, Teddy… 

         "Hon? Louisa?! Are you okay?" 

         "I… uh… yeah. Um, you were saying…" She shook her head. "You're telling me people _killed_ themselves in my apartment?" 

         Marsha nodded. "Three girls, one in the fifties, one in the sixties and one in the nineties. No one else really stayed on long enough. That is, until Ms. Chase. Hmm," she mused, as she went back to her meal. 

         "Hmm, what? What was so special about Ms. Chase and what happened to her? Did she kill herself?" Louisa whispered. 

         Marsha shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." Fiddling with her water glass, she regarded Louisa. "I remember the first time I saw Ms. Chase. She came with her boyfriend, this cute Irish guy. Oh, he had it bad for her, you could tell. But she was just so absorbed in finding a place _good enough_, you know? I don't think she saw it. Anyway, she stayed that night and man, what a racket! Things bumping around in there and her screeching. I was about to go pound her door but I figured maybe she finally got the hint about the Irish guy." 

         "Marsha!" 

         "Well, he _was_ cute… anyway, I did nothing, hoping to see her the next day and tell her, you know, entertain more quietly. Besides, it had calmed through the night so… I waited. The next night, she brought her boyfriend and this other guy, tall, brooding, gorgeous…" drawled Marsha. "I mean, the Irish guy, cute, but the other… wow, you know? Anyway, they stayed up there awhile, party, I guess. These other strange men came for a bit but left soon after. Then I heard a boom and I was set to go evict her, you know? Then, nothing." 

         "Nothing?" 

         "Nothing. For three years. I tell you, I never had such a good tenant. No parties, no entertaining, nothing. Like I said, she worked weird hours, she could stay home most of the day, but leave and come back at five in the morning. Lately, she had been gone more often than not, days on end." 

         "You weren't worried?" 

         "No, because she would always show up. I figured it was her boyfriend keeping her out." 

         "The Irish guy?" Louisa teased. 

         "No, actually, she had another at the end, a big, muscled guy." Marsha grinned. "She sure could pick them." 

         "Hmm," Louisa thought. "Maybe he's responsible for her disappearance?" 

         "I thought so, too," agreed Marsha. "But I talked to her friends, a thin woman and her boyfriend, another great specimen of the male race. Tall, dark and handsome. Anyway, Fred, that's the girl, she said, they had broken up and she was supposed to have met their other friend at the beach. That never happened. The friend had ended up at the beach, they found his car, but he was gone. Ms. Chase's car was found in the middle of the highway leading there. Both of them went missing three months ago." 

         "That's so weird," said Louisa. "Both of them? And in the middle of the highway?!" 

         "Yup, not a word. Out of sight. Into thin air. And no one saw anything." 

         "But… but that's impossible!" 

         Marsha raised her glass. "Impossible, but oh, so true." 

* * *

         The meal ended and Louisa and Marsha went their separate ways, promising to do it again. True, the woman was spacey, seriously… ghosts? 

         But Louisa had no friends, so Marsha would do. And besides, underneath it all, she _was_ fun to talk to. 

         The key was not to let her get too close. No, close was bad and no one was going to get that close again. She couldn't… 

         Teddy. 

         No. Never again. 

         As she crossed the street to the complex, she saw the flyer on the telephone pole. _ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS_, she read. _When no one will help, we will. No one will be turned away. We help the hopeless._

         Below it was a logo, kind of like a squiggly bird, and a phone number. 

         She looked at her apartment, then back at the sheet. Without quite knowing why, she tore the sheet off and took it with her. 

* * *

         The conversation with Marsha had been… enlightening. The more Marsha told Louisa of Ms. Chase, the more she felt she understood her. 

         Now, if only she could figure out her secret to living in this apartment. 

         Louisa's hand shook as she put the key in the lock. Now, now, Lou, just relax. You will not kill yourself. Teddy… now he… 

         Stop. This is an apartment. You will go in and you will sleep. God knows you need it. 

         She opened the door and walked in. And she dropped her keys. 

         It would be funny, if it wasn't so damned scary. 

         All her stuff, packed in boxes and suitcases, were stacked by the door, as if she had never unpacked. Everything else was the same as she had received it. The picture she had replaced was back up, the lamps back where they were originally. 

         The message was again painfully clear. The apartment is mine. Go away. 

         Louisa checked all the rooms. Yes, everything was back to its original splendor and Louisa got angrier and angrier at every room. She lost it when she reached her bathroom. 

         On the mirror, in her favorite lipstick, which she found broken on the floor nearby, was a message, more painfully clear than the stacked boxes. Clear because it was spelled out for her. Five very foreboding words. 

         _You are not welcome here._

         Teddy's words bounced in her head. "I don't need you, Lou, just… get out, okay? You're not welcome here anymore…" 

         NO! she raged internally. This is my place! This is… 

         She stalked out to the living room and reached out to turn on the light. The bulb burst, leaving her in the dark. She jumped at the implosion and then looked up angrily. 

         "Okay, listen up here! This is my place, okay?! I'm not scared, I'm not frightened and I'm not leaving, got it?! I don't care if I have to unpack a million times! You are not scaring me away!" 

         She grabbed the phone and dialed the number on the sheet. It rang once and then twice as the TV and radio turned on and off, volume going from high to low alternately. Just as the phone picked up, she saw with unbelieving eyes as the armchair hovered and then fell back down with a clunk. 

         "…gel Investigations. We help the…" 

         "Yes! I-I need help! I…" 

         "…leave your name and number…" 

         "Damn!" she screamed, throwing the phone down viciously as she spun on her heel and bellowed, "Stop it! Just shut up!" 

         The place fell silent, but Louisa was determined. "Look, I don't know what Ms. Chase did! Did she bribe you, do some kind of spell?! Why can she live with you and I can't?! Why did you kill all those other girls, huh?!" 

         When she got no answer, she huffed and sat on the couch. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" she said to herself. "This place, it can't be… haunted. God," she put her head in her hands. "I'm letting Marsha get to me. There's no such thing, no such thing, no such thing." Saying it like a litany, she almost believed it until she looked up and saw the word on the wall. 

         _Cordy. _

         Beside it was a frowny face with a teardrop on the cheek. 

         "Oh, my God." Louisa knew that hadn't been there before. Who? How? Cordy? "Whose Cordy?" she demanded out loud. 

         No answer. Then a drawer opened by itself and a box wafted out, floating in the air, and depositing itself beside Louisa. She sat, shell-shocked, unable to believe her eyes. 

         "Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God," she kept repeating, staring at the box. 

         She didn't dare to touch the box but rocked back and forth, trying to make sense of it all. Then she felt a cool breeze beside her and then warmth on her nape, as if something, or someone, had placed a consoling hand on her. 

         "A-are you… going to h-h-hurt me?" she whispered. 

         Then she heard a thump come from the wall with the word on it. She jumped. Then she felt the warmth again, as if to say, it's okay, I was just answering you. 

         "W-was that a no?" she asked, timidly. 

         A pause, then two consecutive thumps from the wall. 

         "Yes," Louisa confirmed, feeling the warmth again when she said it. "One thump for no, two for yes?" 

         One thump, then a second. 

         "Okay," she breathed out. "I'll… I'll just have to remember that." Then she looked at the word. "Cordy. Is that… Ms. Chase?" 

         Two empty thuds. 

         "Cordy Chase. Was that hers?" she asked, pointing to the box. 

         Two thumps. 

         Louisa reached for it, then withdrew her hand. "A-are you… are you a _bad_ ghost?" she asked, unbelieving that she was actually saying this. 

         One empathic thud was her answer. 

         "No, I suppose not," she smiled. "Else you would have written 'Leave or die' or something like that on the mirror." She stopped a sighed, rubbing her face with her hand. She giggled softly, as if in disbelief. "A good ghost. God I never thought…" she said to herself. 

         She curled up on the couch and shivered as the room got darker with the setting sun. Maybe she should go get her robe… Then she gasped as she saw the blanket on the armchair lifted by itself, flew over to her, speared itself and tucked itself around her. 

         "Oh… oh, my. Uh… thank you… you're… you're so kind," she said, surprised. 

         She heard a small sigh as the other lamps in the room turned on. She heard the kettle in the kitchen clank as the box beside her shifted. 

         She looked at the box, then asked, "Can… May I open it?" 

         The box nudged over closer to her and she heard two thumps from the kitchen where she heard cups click together and drawers open and close. 

         She carefully opened the box and pulled out the contents. Some photographs. A woman, brunette, smiling. She lifted the picture. "Is this Cordy?" she asked. 

         The kitchen door swung open and a tray with a teapot and cup and saucer floated out as if someone was carrying it. It set by her on the table and then she heard two knocks. 

         "She's pretty." 

         Two thumps. Yes. 

         Louisa looked at the other pictures. One with Cordy and two other men, one with snapping green eyes and a loud shirt, the other in black with a serious look. 

         "Who are these guys?" she asked, then remembered, "Ah, only yes-no questions. Uh… one of these the Irish guy Marsha told me of?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "I guess the guy in the loud shirt, huh?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "Yeah, got to love the Irish… party all the time. Was he her boyfriend?" 

         Two thumps. Then a third. 

         "Yes? No? Wasn't clear, huh?" 

         Two thumps. 

         Louisa nodded sympathetically. "Marsha told me as much. She didn't know how much she cared until it was too late, huh? Never got together? He skipped out on her?" 

         Two thumps. Then a third. 

         "No? Something wrong? Oh, well. Marsha was right about one thing. They were cute…" Louisa flipped through the other pictures. A man in glasses. A black man with a thin girl. "Fred, right?" she guessed and got two thumps as reward. A blonde, a redhead and a dark-haired boy in another. More group pictures of Cordy with a bunch of teenagers and a middle-aged man. Some other pictures of her with the other ones, Fred and the Irish guy. Another of her with a huge muscled guy, Louisa figuring it was the boyfriend. 

         "This guy," she held up the picture. "Her boyfriend, right?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "They broke up her last night, right?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "Do… do you know what happened?" she asked, tentatively. 

         One empty thump. It sounded sad. 

         "No. You don't." Louisa thought for a moment. "You… you miss her, don't you?" 

         A pause then two, very sad-like thumps. 

         It was strange. Half an hour ago, she was _convinced_ ghosts didn't exist. Now, she was sympathizing with one over the loss of the girl. 

         She sighed. "I wish I knew your name. I wish I knew about these people. I wish I knew what happened to her. Cordy." 

         The phone that was on the floor flew up and landed in her lap. Then the flyer on the table came flying at her. 

         "What? Angel Investigations? Whatever, it's okay now that I know you won't kill me," she explained, putting the phone aside. She ignored the phone pushing back in her hands as she asked, "So. Can I live here? Without having to unpack every day?" 

         She heard two thumps as the boxes flew every which way, opening and all their contents getting unpacked before her eyes. She smiled as it replaced her picture and reset everything back in matter of minutes. As he 'worked', she asked, "So, Ghost… are you a boy?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "Hmm, okay. Okay, well, if I'm going to live here, we should have some rules. So, rule number one, bathroom and bedroom are off-limits when I'm showering or changing, got it?" 

         Nothing, then a reluctant and dull two thumps. 

         "What? Cordy let you watch her bathe?" she asked, incredulously. 

         Two enthusatstic thumps. 

         Louisa almost laughed. "Well, you can forget it, buddy. I don't let anyone I don't know see _me_ naked." 

         Then the realization hit her. She had a roommate. A temperamental, kind of perverted ghost of a roommate, but a roommate nonetheless. 

         She wondered what Teddy would have said. 

         Shaking her head of that thought, she set out to help her ghost unpack. 

* * *

         It was nice, having someone to talk to. She didn't tell Marsha when the lady came by to ask how she was faring with the strange things. She just said that it stopped. Guess somehow Ms. Chase had fixed things here. 

         She noted that the ghost didn't make his presence known when she came over. Louisa guessed he was used to pretending he wasn't there when Cordy had guests. 

         It was good, she would ask him questions and he would answer with his thumping, which he did quietly. And she liked the fact that _he_ couldn't ask any questions. It meant he couldn't pry. 

         One day, he picked up the only picture she had of Teddy and floated it to her. But when she had yelled that it wasn't any of his business, the picture floated back and he never asked again. 

         But more and more, as time went by, Louisa got curious about Cordy and she could sense how sad her ghost was over her. She so desperately wished she could find Cordy for him, but she had tried to do a search for her and came up with nothing. 

         Graduate of Sunnydale High, aspiring actress, her dad had been really rich at one point, owner of Chase Industries. Then tax evasion sent him to the slammer and Cordy to the poorhouse. Louisa had found the missing persons advertisement, then nothing. She had just… disappeared. 

         She turned on the TV and looked to her side. The phone was off the hook again. "Ghost!" she yelled. "How many times have I told you to leave the phone alone?" She replaced the receiver, unaware of the tinny "hello?…hello?!" coming from the receiver. 

         Louisa sighed. It was the fifth time that week her ghost had knocked the receiver over, leaving it off the hook for her to pick up. She tried to talk to him about it, but she could not understand why he did it. 

         She shrugged. If that was his only peculiarity, well, then, she could live with it. On the whole, he was more of a blessing than a nuisance. Meals were sometimes ready for her when she got back late from work, they seemed to enjoy the same TV shows and every once in a while, if she found out Marsha was coming over at the last minute, he would have the place cleaned and spotless for her. 

         He was God sent. 

         If only he would leave the phone alone, he would be perfect. 

* * *

         Exactly one week after she moved in, she learned everything there was to know about her ghost. 

         It started off as a rainy Saturday, causing Louisa to decide to stay in and play chess with her ghost. He was actually very good. 

         After trouncing her for the fourth time, she decided lunch was in order. 

         "Too bad you can't eat, Ghost," she said, conversationally. "I make the greatest PB&Js." 

         As she reached for the peanut butter, she felt a cold breeze stream through the apartment. Rushing back into the living room, she saw the chessboard spilt onto the floor, pieces everywhere. The breeze continued as the box with Cordy's pictures flew open and the photos streamed out, flying around as if caught in a cyclone. 

         "Ghost?" she asked, a little frightened. Then as if he sensed her presence, the pictures floated down on the floor, joining the mess of the chess game. 

         She folded her arms and looked at the empty room. "You really miss her, don't you?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "What brought it on?" she asked. She heard the toaster pop with her bread in the kitchen and understood. "The sandwiches. She liked peanut butter and jelly?" she asked, going back into the kitchen. 

         Two thumps. 

         "Ahh," Louisa said, as she made her sandwiches. She took a bite, then put the sandwich down. "I'm sorry," she said, mouth full. She swallowed and said, "I think I understand what she meant to you. Three years… you loved her very much, didn't you?" 

         Two sad thumps. 

         Tears threatened to flow. Louisa had begun to care very much for her ghost and she hated to see him so sad. 

         "I wish… I wish I could help. You know I do. But face it, hon, she's gone," she said, carefully, afraid to cry in front of him. 

         She's gone, Lou, she told herself, just like Teddy. He's gone, too, you know. 

         She tried to push the thought away, going back to her sandwich but her ghost had other ideas. As soon as she said the words, the cordless phone flew off its base and to her. She just managed to catch it before it hit her. 

         As she marveled at his insistence, she saw the kitchen door swing open violently, and then close, a rustling, then the door flew open again, a sheet wafting in. When the sheet was unceremoniously thrust into her hands, she noted it was the flyer she had picked up last week. 

         Angel Investigations. 

         "W-whu-…" she started, as the phone turned on by itself and the numbers were automatically being punched out. 

         "You _want_ me to call them?" she asked as she heard the phone ringing. 

         Two emphatic thumps, as she heard a small, "hello?" 

         She wasn't sure what she should say, bringing the phone to her ear, but the guy on the other line helped her out. 

         "Yo, I'm sick of this!" he yelled. "Whoever this is, stop calling. I got your number here and I ain't afraid to call the cops on you! We got a business to run here, I ain't got time for your games – " 

         Stunned by his tirade, Louisa decided she had to say something before he hung up on her. "H-hello?" she said, timidly. "I-is this Angel Investigations? 

         The tirade stopped. "Well, our mystery caller has a voice. Yeah, this is Angel Investigations. You got a name?" 

         "Um, Louisa," she answered. "And you are?" 

         "Name's Gunn." 

         "Gunn," she repeated. Then her ghost pounded twice as if to say yes, you got it! She felt herself pushed into the living room where one of the pictures flew up and into her hand. 

         As she heard him say, "…you in trouble? Maybe we can help…", she saw the pictures of Cordy, the thin girl called Fred and the handsome black guy. 

         She interrupted him and blurted, "Are you the black guy?" 

         "Huh?" came the surprised answer. "Am I what?" he asked, incensed. 

         Louisa realized how it sounded and kicked herself. "No, I mean…" She tried to make it sound a little more diplomatic and then thought that hey, these weren't exactly normal circumstances. She was talking to this guy at the request of a _ghost_. "No, you know, that's exactly what I meant. Are you black?" 

         "Uh…" A pause, then a careful, "yes, yes I am. Do I know you?" 

         "No," she said quickly. "You have a girlfriend, thin, pretty, her name is Fred?" she asked, as her ghost banged in excitement. 

         "Um, yeah, look, who are you? How do you know this?" he demanded as the ghost continued banging. 

         Louisa almost smiled. "Look, you may not believe me, and this will sound _so_ strange, but…" Turning away from the phone, she yelled out, "Ghost, stop it, okay! I'm on the phone, I can barely hear myself think!" 

         The banging stopped almost immediately and she felt the warmth on her neck that was an obvious apology. 

         She grinned slightly as she turned back to the phone and heard Gunn say, "Ghost? Dennis?" 

         "Dennis?" she asked him. 

         Then her ghost thumped twice. 

         "Uh, Gunn, is it? Hold on." She cupped the receiver and asked, "Is your name Dennis?" she asked him. 

         Two thumps. 

         Louisa could hardly contain herself. "Your name! I found out your name! You're Dennis!" 

         Two hard thumps. 

         She turned back to the phone. "Oh, my God! You knew my ghost's name! Dennis! You know him!" 

         She heard laughter and muted voices in the background, then Gunn said, "Yeah, you live at Pearson Arms? Apartment 212?" 

         "Yeah…" she answered. 

         He laughed again. "So, you met Dennis, huh? How is he?" 

         Louisa started to get bit more relieved, feeling that he wasn't thinking she was crazy. "Uh, fine… well, kinda sad. He misses Cordy." 

         A pause. Then, he asked, "Uh, you know about Cordy?" 

         "Well, whatever Gho – I mean – Dennis could tell me. He showed me some pictures and my landlady filled me in a bit. I looked up the rest and…" 

         "Whoa! The landlady?! She knows about Dennis?" he asked, concerned. 

         "Oh, no, no!" Louisa interjected. "No, only me. But she's kind of _suspecting_. You know, he's not so quiet. Especially when people move in," she added, snarkily. She felt the warmth on her nape and said, "Yes, I know you're sorry." 

         "Sorry?" 

         "Um, no, I was talking to Dennis. Uh, look, he seemed so insistent I call you. I think he was dialing the number and leaving the receiver out for me to talk to you all week." 

         "Yeah," Gunn chuckled. "We got crank calls all week. And a bizarre message with a woman screaming, was that you?" 

         Louisa thought back. "Oh, that might be when I thought he was going to kill me. I was calling you and got your machine. Needless to say, we worked it out." 

         Gunn laughed again. "Yeah, I guess so. Man, Dennis, scaring off the womanfolk…" 

         "Something like that. Guess he thought if no one took the apartment, Cordy would eventually come back. Lucky for me, I don't scare easily." 

         Gunn said something low, as if to someone else and then told her, "Look, uh, Louisa? We're going to come over, talk to Dennis and all. We have something important he may want to know. Is that okay?" 

         Louisa nodded. "Um, sure. Okay. I'll tell him." 

         "Good, see you in a bit." 

         When she hung up, she turned to the mess on the floor and said, "Okay, Dennis, your friends are coming over to play. Clean up in here, will you?" 

* * *

         They arrived an hour later. Two men and a woman. Louisa looked at them when she opened the door and recognized them from the pictures. 

         "Hi. Uh, Gunn, right? And Fred?" she guessed. 

         "Yeah, Charles Gunn," said Gunn, shaking her hand as she let him in. "Winnifred Burkle," he said, pointing to the girl. "And this is Angel," he introduced. 

         "As in Angel Investigations? I recognize you from the pictures," she told the tall man, who was still in the doorway. Marsha was right. Wow. She turned to take Fred's coat and then noticed Gunn whisper, "Angel?" 

         He looked at Gunn, insistently, and whispered back, "New owner." 

         Louisa looked at the three, confused at what they seemed to finding a problem. 

         "Um, are you guys okay?" she asked. 

         "Just peachy," Angel muttered. 

         She saw him still standing out at the doorway and said, "You know, it's drier in here. It helps to actually _come_ in." 

         He looked at her seriously. "Can I?" 

         "Sure," she answered back. When he didn't move, she rolled her eyes and sniped, "What? Do you need a written invitation? Just come in already!" 

         She heard Dennis thump twice and said, "Yes? Yes, what?" as Angel came in the apartment. She closed the door and said, "Now, Dennis, behave. We have guests." 

         Fred was looking around. "It's like she never left. Did Phantom Dennis do this?" 

         Louisa shook her head. "No, Cordy and I just seemed to share the same tastes in home decoration. I didn't find much to change." 

         "So, how is it you know about Cordelia?" Gunn asked again as he sat. 

         "Cordelia? Oh, Cordy. Sorry, used to her nickname." Louisa reached for the box. "Dennis showed me these," she said, pulling the pictures out. 

         "Dennis," scolded Fred. "You stole these pictures from the boxes we packed, didn't you?" 

         Two sad thumps. 

         "I think he did," said Louisa. "Guess he just wanted something to remember her and her friends by. Dennis… God, it helps so much to know his name now," she breezed, "he showed me the pictures, and like I said, Marsha told me some, and I found this," she said, handing over her own research. 

         "You seemed to go to a lot of trouble for a new tenant," Angel asked, suspiciously. 

         "Dennis was sad," said Louisa , defensively. "He loved Cordy and I guess I was hoping to help him find her. But I reached a dead end. I know this sounds stupid, but it's like she just vanished into thin air." 

         Angel glanced quickly at Fred and Gunn and then back at Louisa. "It's… it's complicated." 

         Louisa looked at the guilty looks on the three of them and asked, carefully. "Hold on, do you guys… do you _know_ where Cordy is?" She heard Dennis pound on the wall as if demanding himself and she silenced him with a curt, "Dennis, I'm taking care of this." Turning back to them, she said, "Well?" 

         Fred came beside Louisa and said, "We were looking for her for three months, every possible kind of lead…" 

         "…dead ends…" added Gunn. 

         "…sources…" Angel said. 

         "…we thought she was gone for good," Fred completed. "Then, last week… when you called… we were in Vegas and we came back and…" 

         Gunn stood up and said, "She was there, in the lobby, same dress, as if she had never been gone." 

         "She's back?!" asked Louisa, frantically. "What happened?" 

         "We don't know," answered Angel. "She doesn't remember. Anything. Not us, not what happened. She just stood there, disoriented. It's…" 

         "She has amnesia," said Fred. "We're trying to jog her memory but it's not easy. She's… confused." 

         "Is she okay, though?" Louisa asked. 

         "Yeah," said Gunn. "She's fine. She's… staying with a friend." 

         Louisa didn't notice Angel's scowl as she nodded. "Good. I mean, I'm glad she's okay. We both are, right, Dennis?" 

         Two thumps. 

         "He says yes," she translated. 

         Fred smiled. "Wow, you have a code? I don't think he and Cordelia had a code…" 

         "Well, I have to be able to talk to my ghost, somehow, right?" she laughed. 

         She heard a thud and turned to where Angel had been looking at the stuff on her shelves. She saw the picture of Teddy had been put on its face, so that Angel could not see the picture. She looked at him, curiously and Angel answered, "Uh, Phantom Dennis. He turned the picture over. I guess he didn't want me…" he said, gesturing at the picture. 

         Louisa smiled. "He… he knows how I value my privacy," she said, softly, going over and taking the picture from the shelf. She put it on the side table, facedown and then turned to them and brightly asked, "Uh, coffee? Tea?" 

* * *

         The conversation was interesting. Gunn and Fred told Louisa what they knew, filling in the blanks she had. Gunn explained how the green guy with the red horns was a friend of theirs, Lorne, who was an entertainer, and that the boyfriend in the picture with Cordy was Groo. They had broken up the same night she had disappeared and that she was supposed to have gone to meet Angel. 

         "Wait, the guy at the beach, that was you?" Louisa asked. 

         Angel nodded. 

         "Marsha told me you disappeared, too. Thin air. What happened?" 

         Angel shuffled his feet. "It's… complicated. Someone had it in for me. He jumped me at the beach and… kinda locked me up somewhere. These guys found me." 

         "Oh," said Louisa, unsure of how safe she now was with these people. 

         Then, a picture wafted into her hand and she looked at it. Cordy, Angel and the guy with the glasses. 

         When she looked up, questioningly, Fred answered, quietly. "Wesley. He's a friend of ours…" 

         Then Gunn looked at her sharply and reiterated, "Well, was one, at least." 

         Fred stood up angrily. "Yeah, well, that _friend_ found Angel and saved him! Maybe you should…" 

         "Maybe we shouldn't do this here," stressed Angel, grabbing the photos from Louisa, but as he did, the one of him and the Irish guy slipped out. He took the photo and stared at it for a minute. 

         Louisa saw the change in the man and ventured a timid, "The Irish guy? Marsha told me he helped Cordy find this place." 

         Angel nodded, carefully, not tearing his eyes away from the picture. "Doyle. I helped him out with a… problem and he found Cordy this place. He… he was a good man," he whispered, laying the picture aside. 

         Louisa's mouth opened. "Oh. That's what I got wrong." 

         When Gunn and Fred looked at her, she said, "Dennis. Marsha told me that Doyle had the hots for Cordy and I told Dennis that maybe she didn't know how much she cared for him until it was too late, that maybe he skipped out on her, before they could get together. Dennis said I got it wrong. Now I see… he didn't split, did he? He…" 

         "He died," Angel confirmed. Then Angel sat down with the picture and smiled in memory. "But it's okay, he told her, before. And she… she told him." 

         Louisa couldn't help but smile. "Um, that's… that's good." 

         Two agreeing thumps. 

         They fell in silence in that thought, until Fred said, "Guys, maybe that's it." 

         "What is?" asked Gunn. 

         "Cordy's memories. Maybe she should come here. It might help her remember." 

         Two enthusiastic thumps. 

         "I don't know," disagreed Gunn. "That might not be the best idea." 

         "Why not?" asked Fred. 

         Gunn looked at her sharply. "We don't know how Cordy would handle it," he said, tightly. 

         Fred was about to protest when Angel said, "I agree. Cordy just needs some time. We'll wait until she's more… comfortable." 

         Louisa shrugged. "Look, anytime guys. I know Dennis would love to see her again." 

         One hard thump, then a banging. 

         "No use arguing, Dennis, I'm sure they know what's best for her," Louisa explained. "She'll come when she's better." 

         One soft thump of dejection and silence. 

         Louisa whispered to them, "He'll be okay, he just _really_ misses her." 

         "I'm sure she misses him, too," Angel said. "She really loved him." 

         They rose to leave and as Fred slipped her coat on, Gunn turned and asked Louisa, "You're okay here, right? You're staying in the apartment?" 

         Louisa nodded. "Roommate notwithstanding," she joked. 

         "If you ever need anything, call us, you have the number, right?" 

         Louisa nodded again. 

         Gunn smiled and said, "Not you, Dennis. I've enough of _your_ calls for one week." 

         Two thumps. 

         "Yeah," he said. "Take care of her, my man." 

         Two thumps. 

         Then he headed for the door, following Angel and Fred out. Turning to Louisa, he said, "Remember, anything. And… be careful." 

         She nodded and said, "Thank you. For everything." 

         He gave her a last look, then closed the door behind him. 

* * *

         Things were a bit better for Louisa afterwards. Dennis was infinitely happier, knowing Cordy was safe and Louisa was relieved to have had her questions answered. 

         The next day, she had come home with a surprise for Dennis. Frames. She took all the pictures he had in the box and framed them, displaying them around the room, so he could look at them and remember his friends. 

         He thumped his happiness for hours. 

         At first she may have thought it was weird to have pictures of strangers about her, but then she realized, even though she hadn't even _met_ most of them, she felt she knew them through Dennis, through Cordelia. 

         On the mantle were Cordelia's Sunnydale pictures. Buffy, Xander, Willow, Oz, Giles, Angel. Angel had been nice enough to name them all for her. They were her high school friends. 

         On the desk, she put her work friends, Gunn, Fred, Wesley, Lorne… funny Cordy only had the one picture with him in costume… Groo, Connor, Angel. 

         But most importantly, on the shelf, next to her picture of Teddy, she put the picture of Doyle. 

         Fitting, in a way. Lost love beside lost love. Louisa felt like it was one of many things she shared with Cordy. Probably the most important. 

         Too late. Too late. 

         Louisa looked around the room. It was more… cozy. This was it. What was missing in her life. However convoluted, this was… family. 

         She heard the cups in the kitchen rattle. Her ghost was making tea. 

         Louisa smiled, but then as her eyes fell to one of the pictures of Cordy alone on the side table, her smile faded. She picked it up and peered at it carefully. In the background, almost unnoticeable, she saw the small bulge in the wall. Dennis. He was posing with Cordy. 

         She sat down on the couch, still holding the picture. Her ghost… not _her_ ghost. Louisa had gotten so used to saying that. Her ghost. But he wasn't…He was… he was Cordy's. She looked around. 

         She had no business here. Angel had told her of how they had released Dennis from his mother, how Dennis stayed here for Cordy. 

         He was hers… and Louisa was in the way. Again. 

         "I don't need you, Lou, just… get out, okay? You're not welcome here anymore…" Teddy had said. 

         Why hadn't she said it? Had she been scared, afraid? She could have… No, she had just been selfish, possessive. Like she was now. She hadn't understood then, hadn't realized. Even now, she was just repeating the cycle. 

         Love doesn't equal property, Lou, she thought. You can't own love. It was… a state of being. 

         Had she loved Teddy? Yes. 

         Now why hadn't she said it? Because he had been hers and she had thought that was enough. 

         But it wasn't. And now he was gone. 

         Dennis wasn't hers, either. She cared for him, loved him, but he wasn't _hers_. 

         Was this how Cordy felt, when Doyle died? Maybe. But he had _told_ her and she had told _him_. 

         Louisa never _told_ Teddy and now it was too late. 

         She started to cry as Dennis came in with the tea. The tray hovered and then set on the table. He put the picture in her hand back and wrapped a blanket around her, sending warmth on her nape the way she liked it. She bawled for almost an hour and Dennis was confused. He tried to bang for attention but then gave up, 'holding' her as she sobbed. 

         When her tears began to subside, he handed her her tea. She took it gratefully and then asked, "Dennis, do you believe in second chances?" 

         Two thumps. 

         She nodded. Then she said, "I don't." She was about to cry again, when the picture of Teddy floated in its own from its place and landed in her lap. 

         "It's too late," she whispered. 

         One thump. 

         "I… I never told him. And…" 

         The picture nudged closer in her lap. 

         She looked into Teddy's laughing eyes and took a deep breath. He laughed once, before… 

         "He was my love. My Doyle, you know?" she told him. "I would have done anything for him. But I never… said so. He was mine, all mine, I thought. I was wrong, so wrong." 

         She paused, running her fingers along the picture. 

         "Life became hard, we… we struggled. He wasn't happy, I know that now, but I was so sure he was mine, my Teddy, and I never bothered to say or ask. He… he pushed me aside for so long, but that was okay, because he was mine and… he wasn't going anywhere." 

         A single tear dropped onto the picture. 

         "I came home and… he was gone. He was lying there but he was gone… and he wasn't mine anymore." 

         Another tear joined the first. 

         "I… I never told him… I loved him," she whispered. "If I had… maybe he would have stayed." 

         Dennis placed a warmth on her nape. Then, he thumped once. 

         "No?" Louisa looked up, surprised. "H-he wouldn't have. Why?" 

         A pen on the desk rose and wrote on a sheet. It floated to her and she read the two words scraggly written. _His choice_. 

         Louisa frowned as the tears streamed down her cheek. His choice? No, she was responsible, if she had paid attention, she would have seen he was sad, she could have come home sooner, stopped him, told him. 

         The sheet fluttered. _His choice_, Dennis insisted. 

         "I… I couldn't have stopped him?" she whispered. 

         Two thumps. 

         "No… no… no…" she moaned, bursting into tears, "I could have… I could have saved him!" 

         One thump, then warmth. 

         "No, you're not sorry! You're lying! I could have saved him! I could have… been there for him, paid attention to him. I could have!" she screamed. 

         One thump. 

         "No!" she screamed. She grabbed her coat and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. 

         When she left, the picture of Teddy floated for a minute, like he was considering it, then with a gust of cold wind, like a sigh, the picture floated back to its place beside Doyle. 

* * *

         Louisa walked for hours. He was lying. Dennis was… what? Jealous? No, he was a ghost. A ghost who had cared for her for a week now. He… cared and he told her… 

         No, Louisa shook her head. This was crazy. She was there, she knew what happened with Teddy. She had failed him, plain and simple. And he gave up on her. He… 

         She crossed the street to the hotel. The Hyperion. 

         "Remember, anything," Gunn had said. 

         This was anything… right? Who else was she going to go to? Marsha? Hi, I had a fight with my ghost? No, not _my_ ghost, some other girl's ghost who just happens to live in my apartment? That we fought about my lost love? That he said I couldn't saved my love form killing himself? 

         She knocked on the door. It was brusquely opened by the green man… the entertainer… uh… Lorne! Why was he _still_ in costume? 

         "Uh, hi… is Gunn here?" she sniffed. 

         "Yeah, look, it's not exactly the greatest time, okay, honeybunch, maybe we can…" 

         "It's important," she insisted. 

         Lorne looked at her sadly and then nodded, "Okay, come in." 

         He led into the lobby, where she saw a mess of candles and a large white circle on the ground. The red plush couch was pushed away and a chair was lying on its side, bits of rope surrounding it. 

         "What – " 

         "Sorry for the mess, miss, we were in the middle of a – " started Lorne. 

         "A rehearsal," Gunn covered as he came in and saw Louisa. "For Lorne's play." 

         "Ah, explains the makeup," she said. 

         Gunn came up to her. "Louisa, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" he asked, noticing her dried tears. 

         She nodded, then began crying. "D-d-d-dennis and I h-h-had a fight," she blurted. 

         "Oh," he said, as if to mean that's all. 

         "It was really bad!" she cried. "I-I can't go back there, okay?" 

         Gunn dropped his head. "Look, I know it's hard, but you have to work this out with Dennis. I'm sure he didn't mean…" 

         Louisa sniffed and wiped her eyes angrily. "I can't! You said anything, Gunn!" she yelled. 

         Lorne was staring at Gunn intently. As Gunn scrambled for the words, Lorne turned to Louisa. "Sweetie, I know you're upset, it's just Gunn's got a lot on his plate right now and…" 

         "…and I'm not so important!?" 

         "No… It's just… okay, quick, sing something." 

         "What?" asked Louisa, staring at the strange man who took her by surprise. 

         Lorne looked at her impatiently. "Just trust me, okay? We don't have time for this, things are bad now and they're getting worse. Just sing. Anything." 

         Louisa looked at Gunn, who nodded to her. She scrambled to find a song. Then one popped in her head. Teddy's favorite song. 

                  _Many years have passed since those summer days   
                  Among the fields of barley…   
                  See the children run as the sun goes down   
                  Among the fields of gold…   
                  You'll remember me when the west wind moves   
                  Upon the fields of barley…   
                  You can tell the sun in his jealous sky   
                  When we walked in the fields of gold…_

         "Okay, got it." Lorne looked at Louisa sadly and took her by the hands, leading to the red couch. When she sat, he held her hands as he crouched in front of her. She looked into his face as he sighed. 

         "You and Dennis, you share more than a room, don't you? You have so much in common. You need each other, sweetie. He's not lying, just trying to help." 

         "But…" 

         Lorne lifted a hand and continued, "I know, you have these confused thoughts about love and possession and you think it's your fault. Dennis is right. It _was_ his choice. You feel bad because you felt you lost something more by not being able to express yourself, but he knew, Lou. He knew you were there. For him, _that_ wasn't enough. And _he_ chose. Not wisely, mind you, but _he_ did and you have to understand, you could have done _nothing_." 

         "How…?" Then she remembered she had a ghost at home. And somehow she thought, that paint on his skin was just a little _too_ even to be just makeup. She took a deep breath. "I refuse to believe that," she answered, looking away from his red eyes. 

         "Honey, you have to. Because it's the truth. Dennis lost Cordy and I'll tell you now, that's for good. She isn't going back to him. Ever," he said, glancing upstairs. When Louisa looked at Gunn for confirmation, he merely looked away. Something had happened. 

         She turned back to Lorne. "Ever?" 

         He nodded. "He lost her and he is learning to accept that. You did a good turn, getting the frames. Now, he's trying to help you. Let him. You have each other and when our current mess clears out, you will have us, hopefully." 

         When she dipped her head down, he reached over and held her by the chin. "Let go, Lou. Love hurts, yes, but it heals as well. Let Dennis help you figure it out." 

         She nodded, wiping the last tears away. 

         Assured she was okay, he helped her up and to the door. Turning back at the door, she whispered to him, "You're… you're not in a play, are you?" 

         Lorne shook his head, smiling. 

         Louisa nodded, thoughtfully. "Thought as much… I… good luck… with your mess," she said. 

         "Thanks. And take care of yourself, Lou. You're a very special person." 

         Louisa paused. "You know, Teddy was the only one who ever called me Lou." 

         "I'm sorry, I won't…" 

         "No, it's okay," she reassured him. "I… actually, I like it." 

* * *

         When Louisa got back, the place was silent. 

         "Dennis?" 

         No sound. 

         "Dennis?" she called again. "Dennis!" 

         Nothing. The place felt… empty. 

         She walked in and on the couch was a sheet. In scraggly writing was one word. _Goodbye._

         No. 

         No. He can't have left. 

         "Dennis! Dennis, where are you? Don't! Don't leave me!" she cried. 

         She ran from room to room, calling out. 

         "Dennis, I'm sorry! Please… don't… leave… me…" she said, crumpling to the ground in the living room, crying. 

         She cried for some time, then eventually, exhausted, fell asleep on the floor. 

* * *

         She woke up the next morning, on the floor of the living room, feeling like she's been passed through a wringer. But as she rose, she noticed she was covered with a blanket. 

         Dennis? 

         On the table beside her was a tray with breakfast and a vase with a rose. 

         "Dennis…" she breathed. 

         She heard a sigh in the air that sounded oddly like "Loouuu…" 

         Beside the tray was a sheet filled with more scraggy writing. 

         Louisa read it, knowing how hard it was for Dennis to write, knowing it must be important. 

         _I am sorry. I could not leave. I love you. Help me. She is gone. He is gone. Their choice. Not ours. We must live now. Without them. Together. Please. I love you._

         Louisa allowed a few more tears to escape. She took a deep breath. 

         Time to break the cycle. 

         "I love you, too, Dennis. I'm sorry. I… I want to try. Try to live without him. Understand I'm not to blame. Learn to love again." 

         "Looouu…" 

         "Yes," she answered. 

         She felt a pressure on the sheet and obligingly turned the sheet over. It was the flyer for Angel Investigations. Part of it was underlined. 

         _When no one will help, we will. No one will be turned away. We help the hopeless._

         "Yeah. I know, Dennis. You all helped, them, you. Thank you." 

* * *

         Lorne flipped through the mail. Man, had it been a hard week, first that wonky spell to get Cordy's memories back, now the Beast and the impeding apocalypse. 

         What Lorne needed was something to make him smile. 

         He fingered the thin, white envelope. It was addressed to Lorn, care of Angel Investigations. Okay, someone didn't know how to spell his name but… 

         He opened the envelope. The contents made him smile. A substantial cheque, a letter, and a picture. 

         The letter read, 

         _Dear Lorn, _

         Thanks for the help. We worked it out and we are okay. I hope your mess is getting sorted out. If you need anything, and I mean, anything, let me and Dennis know. We're here for you guys. 

         Sincerely, Lou 

         Lorne smiled and picked up the picture. It was a picture of Lou, posing by herself, near the mantle in her apartment, Cordy's old one. Lorne noticed the framed pictures on the mantle. Then he peered closer. He could have sworn… 

         The wall was bulging slightly. So slight it was almost unnoticeable. 

         Dennis. Lou. Together. 

         To learn to live. To learn to love. To learn to accept. 

         ~~ The End ~~ 

* * *


End file.
